


Missing Him, Missing Home

by kasoleia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Happy Ending, It's badly written because I'm trying to speed write all the klance fics i've ever wanted, Lance's POV, Langst, M/M, Oneshot, Sad Lance (Voltron), Season 6 Fix it fic, Trigger warning for brief mention of suicidal thoughts, because the show is ending soon, fluff at the end, garrison antics, keith/lance reunion, klance, klance meet cute, lance feels worthless, no super graphic imagery, the way I wanted it to go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 07:04:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15769041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasoleia/pseuds/kasoleia
Summary: When Keith said he was leaving Team Voltron, Lance didn’t believe him at first. So he simply grinned and said; “Yeah, who will I make fun of!?”.But that was it. That was goodbye.And Lance regretted everything.





	Missing Him, Missing Home

When Keith said he was leaving Team Voltron, Lance didn’t believe him at first. After all, the boy was a hot-head. It wasn’t uncommon for him to make rash decisions in the spur of the moment. And so naturally, he simply grinned and said; “Yeah, who will I make fun of!?”.

But wait.

That was his real goodbye? Keith had no intention of coming back? Gone?

There were so many things Lance needed to tell Keith. So many missed opportunities.

 

He remembered the day Keith came to the Garrison. It was only his second day, yet all anyone could seem to talk about was ‘ _Keith this, Keith that_ ’.

Keith was the new James.

God, how Lance despised James. James with his perfect hair, his devilish good looks, and his piloting expertise. James was the kind of guy to never wash his hair, and to just keep adding more gel every day. And for some reason, people liked that. People found that  _charismatic_.

But then there came Keith. Lance had never met him, yet couldn’t help liking him for putting James in his place. 

“I’m going to befriend this  _Keith_ ” Lance had declared to Pidge and Hunk as they were walking to their next class. As if on cue, a pale boy came barrelling around a corner, smashing straight into Lance and knocking all his books and pencils down and making them both fall.  _Co-ordinated_.

Lance groaned as he got up and brushed himself off, noticing Pidge and Hunk weren’t there.  _Sneaky little shits._

"Sorry dude" He sighed, Holding out a hand to the teen that was sprawled on the ground. Fuck. He was hot. Really hot.

Lance's hand was slapped away harshly.

The hot, now angered and flush-faced boy looked at Lance with ferocious eyes.

“Why the  _fuck_  were you standing in the middle of the hallway”

Lance did not like this attitude. What a fucking olive branch.

“ _Woah_! Calm your shit- Why were you sprinting around the corner like that?”

“Because I was running late dumbass”

“Man, what the hell? I don’t even know you and you’re being a dick to me–  I can see you’re great at making friends” Lance retorted.

The dark haired boy went to fire back at him, but was interrupted by the loudspeaker.

_-Cadet Kogane, please come to the administrator’s office-_

“Fuck, I’m really in for it this time” he muttered under his breath before shooting off again.

“Wait!” Lance called down the hallway, “You’re Kogane? Keith Kogane?”

But he was already gone. So much for befriending Keith.

Well, yeah. He and Keith didn’t get off to the best start, but Lance knew him well. I mean, who could forget that boy with the purple eyes and the dumb mullet. That dumb, luscious, silky mullet.

\----

Lance remembered the day he found out Keith was kicked out of the Garrison. The day he moved up to fighter class. He couldn't help but be happy that his mullet-headed rival had left, shooting Lance up the ranks, except, something was pulling back on him.

He felt somewhat empty- lost even.

Hunk suggested that it was because there was no more competition, knowing how much the Cuban boy loved competing.

 _That’s it_ , Lance had assured himself.  _I just miss the competition, it’s the only explanation._

And that’s what he told himself every time. Because, well, he couldn’t miss Keith- could he? Yet, when Lance spotted him that night –the night where everything changed– he felt… complete again. Fullness. A feeling he hadn’t felt for a long time. A wave of warmth had filled him as he ran down the hill to follow Keith. In the light of the night’s events, the cool midnight breeze should have been chilling, but no. It was calming.

To Lance, it seemed that Keith always wanted to pick a fight. Keith challenged him on every goddamn thing. He was reminded that, the  _second_  he talked to Keith again.

“Who are you?” Keith had asked him rudely.

_Well fuck you too_

Honestly, how could he  _not_ remember Lance- they were rivals after all. He  _must’ve_  been lying. And that? Well that hurt Lance. It hurt him a lot.

Keith tended to hurt Lance a lot, more than the other paladins did.  Every  _fucking_  time he made a snarky comment, a snide remark; it hurt him. Keith seemed to target his insecurities for shits and giggles.

_(not that Keith giggled, because hell, that would make Lance **weak**_ _)_

Did he not notice how much it hurt Lance? Or did he know and just didn’t care?

Keith, his  _teammate_ , his  _friend_  – didn't care about hurting him.

Deep down, the Cuban boy knew the real reason Keith hurt him so much, but he wasn’t going to admit it.

\----

People say that when you die, your entire life flashes before your eyes. Lance didn’t believe in that bullshit. No.

Except,  _not to be overdramatic or anything_ , when Keith said that he was serious about leaving the team to become part of the Blade, Lance’s entire friendship with Keith flashed before his eyes. Was friendship even the right word? Lance wasn’t sure, but he knew that without Keith, he would be incomplete. Keith like a piece of him. A piece of him he wished he didn't need, but really did. He hated to admit it, but Lance liked himself better with Keith.

The day Keith left, Lance had to stay strong. Strong for the team. Strong for Keith. Having to say goodbye to the temperamental teen reminded Lance of when he left home. When he left his mum, his dad, Veronica, Marco and all his nieces and nephews.

He lost his family.

That day, a day Lance let loved ones go, his mother had pulled him close and through teary eyes, told him: “ _Mi cielito, the reason it’s hard to say goodbye because I’m so lucky to have a person like you in my life”_

The first night without Keith was strange. The castle felt silent and empty. The other paladins were nattering away, chatting, laughing, but Lance couldn’t help but feel empty again.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Keith still didn't come back to the team. Sure, Lance had seen him over the communicator, and hearing his voice was calming, but it just worsened the tugging at his heart. It reminded him how far away Keith was.

At the end of an excruciatingly long day, Lance was making his way to his room as he passed the training deck. Usually at this time of night, Keith would be training under bright lights, and the deck would be filled with the sound of his Bayard clashing against the simulation. Normally a wave of heat would wash over anyone who entered. But for the first time in a while, the deck was dark. Cold. Silent.

Arms folded warily in front of his chest, Lance kept walking. Something about the quiet made him uneasy—the lack of another warm body. He walked past Keith’s empty room, and with each step, he felt heavier. Feelings of loneliness consumed him. Quietness and emptiness fitted together like pieces of a puzzle. There was a lump in his throat. He bowed his head and walked faster.

When he reached his room at the end of the corridor, he collapsed onto the floor. Lance felt dizzy—not with the kind of dizziness that makes the body reel, but the kind that's like a dead emptiness in the brain, an instinctive awareness of the void.

Lance was exhausted. Almost too exhausted to apply his favourite clay mask.

Almost.

He looked up and stared at the blank celling. He missed his glow in the dark stars. He missed how they were arranged in constellations: Orion, Perseus, Hercules and Cassiopeia. His room didn’t have a window, but he knew that if it had, if he looked out, he would see millions of stars. But it wasn’t the same. None of them were familiar. Nothing was familiar. There would be no stars to guide him home.

\----

Lance didn't know he’d been crying until he woke. Eyes full of sleep, he wearily stumbled over to the basin to wash his mask off, but when he looked in the mirror, he saw streaks running down his face. Tears.

The beauty of an overnight face mask was that every morning, Lance could wash away the shit from the previous day and night. He could wash away his worries and fears. It kept him calm. It kept him new. Most importantly, it kept him moving forward.

As per routine, Lance washed off the mask in the shower and headed to the kitchen for breakfast. The doors opened to reveal the other paladins laughing and chatting around the table. He must've slept in.

“Remember when he told Allura that she’d already activated his particle barrier?” Pidge spluttered hysterically.

“Oh! And the time he…” Lance couldn’t hear the rest of her sentence, but he had no doubt it was about him. Tears threatened to fall. He couldn’t hold out like this anymore. He’d done so much for the team. He’d battled aliens, sacrificed himself for the team, offered to do dangerous jobs in order to keep the others safe. But the others didn't notice that. They never noticed. Maybe they only ever thought of him as a comic relief. He wasn’t a valued member of the team. He was a joke.

He couldn't let those thoughts consume him. He just… couldn't.

Putting on his usual façade, Lance waltzed into the kitchen and greeted his other teammates.

"Good Morning everybody" Lance said in his regular, flirty tone. "You've been graced by my presence. You're welcome!"

A wave of laughter and scoffs echoed in the room as Lance took his seat at the table. The food goo was unappealing as always, but today looked worse than usual. The sight of it made his stomach turn. He missed his Mama's food, he missed cheap dominoes pizza, fuck, he even missed the shitty taste of McDonald's chips. The fluoro 'food' sat lifelessly on his plate. Immediately Lance felt nauseous and generally unwell, simply looking at it. He could feel the bile stuck in his throat and he forced his muscles to attempt to keep the green sludge down.

"Lance?"

His expressions must’ve mirrored how he felt, because when he glanced up at Hunk, all the other paladins and Coran were all staring anxiously at him.

"Are you okay Red Paladin?" The ginger man asked, peering at him closely.

“Don’t call me that” Lance snarled through gritted teeth. Red Paladin. Keith was the red paladin. Not him. He didn't deserve to be red paladin.

“Lance! Don’t talk to Coran like that!”

"Sorry Shiro.” Lance had fucked up. He’d fucked up bad. He spoke out and now the whole team probably hated him. Coran was _genuinely concerned._ And he was rude in response

Sorry Coran. I guess…” he hesitated, “I just don't feel great, that all" he said, apologetically looking up from his food goo with what should have been a smile. Without another word, he stood up and left the kitchen. He just wanted to be alone. Sort of.

What he really wanted was Keith to come back.

He missed the dumb mullet-head so fucking much.

It unnerved Lance, knowing that he couldn't just go hang out with Pidge and Hunk now that Matt was here. Now, Lance didn't dislike Matt, it's just that, well, they all knew so much more than him. They were all discussing technological stuff that Lance couldn't understand, let alone talk about. In truth, Lance got along with Matt a lot. Matt was the one person that would laugh at his jokes… It was just difficult at times when Hunk and the Holts got together. They'd created this sort of "squad", they called them selves "Triple H" staying in the green lion's hanger for hours, developing intricate machinery and re-programming robots.

Lance was left alone.

He'd aimlessly wander the halls of the castle. Sometimes he would stop and talk to Allura and Shiro before they shooed him off, needing to talk "business". Sometimes he'd work for Coran but Lance often needed a break from the Altean when he started with his stories about Alfor’s _greatness_. Then there was Keith. When Keith was still with the team, Lance would watch him train, and occasionally even spar with him. The graceful way he moved never ceased to amaze the Cuban boy. It reminded him of his dance classes back on earth– the free feeling of moving across the room. Keith looked beautiful. His grace had more than one thrown Lance off when in hand-to-hand combat; not that Lance would ever tell anyone.

But Keith was gone. And Lance was lost.

But maybe, just maybe, training would make him happy. Closer to Keith. 

Minutes turned into hours as he fought simulation after simulation, each becoming increasingly more difficult, but the training was addictive, he felt ill, but kept pushing. Eventually he just collapsed onto the ground.

He sighed as his hot, sweltering body came in contact with the cold metal floor, letting his feverish skin cool down after the 4 hours that he’d been training. Every bone in his body felt sore and the teen just  _knew_  that his muscles were going to be protesting the following day. The room was spinning from dehydration, and Lance felt like he could pass out from exhaustion any second, but the feeling was satisfying.

He felt  _good_. He’d pushed himself to breaking point.

Feeling physically ill, Lance applied his face mask went straight to bed. Sure, it was only 4 in the afternoon, but he had no desire to talk to the rest of the team, and so in his exhaustion, lay on his bed and imagined his familiar glow-in-the-dark constellations as he drifted off to sleep.

However appealing sleeping for hours on end is, there is a fatal flaw in going to bed at 4 in the afternoon. And that was waking up at some ungodly hour. For Lance, it was two o’clock.

“Mierde” he muttered to himself.

Knowing that he wouldn’t easily fall back asleep, Lance washed his face mask off and decided to go for a walk.

He found himself once again aimlessly wandering the castle.

As he walked, he reminisced about the first few months with the team; from when they found the Blue Lion, to when they first formed Voltron to when Keith saved him from being sucked into space, and everything that followed. Keith’s claim of the bonding moment (that Lance  _honestly_  couldn't remember), the time Keith retrieved the blue lion from Nyma, when Shiro went missing and he had to support Voltron as right hand man, and even when he and Keith were stuck in the elevator together. 

He tried thinking of the rest of the team, but his mind just kept going back to Keith. The more he thought about it, Lance realised that Keith  _was never directly_  rude towards him. Sure, he would snap at Lance, and lose his temper at the team, but that tended to be after having been made fun of or in a stressful situation. He was never rude or cruel for the hell of it. How could Lance have gotten it all so wrong? It was almost as if…

…as if their rivalry wasn’t real.

It was all one-sided and constructed in his own head. Everything started to make sense to him.

Lance's need to be better than Keith wasn’t Keith’s fault. It was his own. It stemmed from his own insecurities, bravado, and tendency towards envy. He wanted to be equal to Keith, to be valued like Keith. He wanted to be valued  _by_  Keith.

But he’d fucked everything up.

Lance didn't realise where his feet were taking him until he arrived there. He was in Keith’s room.

Sitting on the end of Keith’s old bed, Lance looked around. The room was clean and empty, except for Keith’s jacket on the hook in the corner– it was easy to tell that no-one had been in here for a while. Hesitantly he took off his own jacket and laid in on the bed. He walked slowly over to the corner of the room and stood in front of the hook, really wondering whether he should be touching the jacket. He gave into the temptation and slid his arms into it.

 _Oh my god this jacket smells nice,_  Lance thought to himself,  _Is this what Keith smells like?_

It smelt like Amortentia– a strange but soothing combination of vanilla and a log fire.

Soon enough the lovesick boy was clutching the blankets of Keith’s bed tightly, and sobbing himself to sleep.

\----

Sleeping in Keith’s room had become a habit for Lance.

Sometimes he’d cry himself to sleep, and sometimes he’d drift into a peaceful slumber, but every time he’d clutch Keith’s jacket until he was out.

Tonight was different though.

Head spinning with a billion random thoughts in no particular order, Lance gripped Keith’s jacket tighter and tried everything to fall back asleep. He knew that it would begin as a subtle awareness of who he was, but quickly grow into a full blown existential and depressive episode. Before he could delve any deeper into his self-deprecation _,_ Lance rose from the bed and headed outside of the room.

Nights like these in the castle were usually quiet, but it wasn’t. Strange noises were coming from outside the ship, it sounded exactly like the calming pitter-patter of rain on a roof. Lance didn’t know what was causing the sound, but it brought him a sense of protection and safety, making him feel less isolated, less alone. Lance followed the calming sound and found himself somewhere in the castle he’s never been before. The observatory.

The spectacular room was dome shaped and entirely made of glass. Outside he could see the vast expanse of space. The sight was breathtaking.

Stars were sprinkled across the endless darkness, as if someone had thrown glitter onto a black canvas. Nebulae colours varied from aquamarine to rich crimson, with all the reds and blues in between, all aglow with their clouded mystery. Yet, the most striking thing was what adorned the glass walls.

Water droplets. Hundreds of thousands of water droplets splattered across the outside of the observatory. Slowly, Lance began to cry, each tear onto the floor like a raindrop on the glass, hitting the surface with a soft plop, then disappearing into all the other water droplets. Bittersweet tears of homesickness and longing. The gentle sound of the rain seemed to tap in double time with his heartbeat.

The teen was so captivated in the moment that he didn’t hear the approaching footsteps, indicating he was no longer alone.

“Lance?”

The softness of the voice broke the silence.

Slowly, the longing boy turned to face the person who had spoken.

Keith.

He was back.

_He was home._

\----

Suddenly, Lance had no control over his feet, as he ran towards Keith, feeling as if it were all happening in slow motion. Lance had run over his “reunion” with Keith one hundred times in his head, and this was not how he had planned it.

But did Lance care?  _Not at all._

Instead, Lance collided with Keith at full force, clinging tightly to the shocked boy with no desire to ever let go. Tears uncontrollably streamed from his eyes. After months not seeing Keith, he took great satisfaction from the sensation of Keith hugging him.

 Keith stroked Lance’s hair as he whispered, “I’m back Lance, I’m here”.

Keith’s voice sounded broken, and Lance didn't trust himself enough to speak.

Days of feeling repressed and exhausted made him weak, and having Keith come back was the cherry on top. He began to sob uncontrollably, leaning into the dark haired boy’s chest.

"Shhh, Lance. Is everything okay? Are… Are you  _crying_?"

Lance replied with another sob.

Keith continued to hold Lance in his arms. “You’re wearing my jacket”

Lance couldn’t think straight: he feared what Keith was thinking. Would he be mad at Lance for wearing his jacket? Or would he simply tell him to  _take it off_? That would hurt him the most.

Lance couldn't deal with that sort of rejection. Not from Keith.

 “It suits you”

Lance only barely heard what he said.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, “I’ve ruined everything.”

“What are you talking about?” Keith replied, pressing himself into Lance’s neck.

“I got mad at the team for no reason, and–“ Lance hiccupped, “And now they don't want to be near me. I haven’t–” He hiccupped again, “Haven’t spoken to them in 2 days”

“Lance,” Keith broke away from the hug and looked deeply into his eyes. “The whole team has been worried sick. They said you’ve hardly eaten in a week, been training every day for ridiculous hours, and you've been isolating yourself. They called me to come back because they were at a loss.”

 “I just… wanted to be looked up to… wanted to be appreciated,” Lance continued to sob. “I thought if I trained harder and… stayed out of trouble…”

“Lance! You were going to kill yourself from starvation and exhaustion!”

“Maybe it’s better like that… I mean, if I died. I’m just a burden to the team.”

“Fuck Lance, holy hell! What would make you think like that? The whole team looks up to you and appreciates you.” Keith pulled him back into a hug, knowing it was what he really needed. “Hell man,  _I look up to you_ ”

This time Lance broke away. “You do?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed.

“I’m sorry Keith. I'm so sorry"

"What for?" 

"I constructed a rivalry that didn’t exist due to my own selfishness and jealousy. I’m so, so sorry” Lance sobbed, looking ashamedly at the floor.

“Jealous of me? Why? I have a short temper and absolutely no patience. Don’t be jealous of me– you’re a far better person than I will ever be.”

 “So, are you coming back to the team?” Lance breathed, trying to take in everything Keith had said. The half-galra boy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and looking up at the ceiling. He wanted to tell Lance. So badly. He wanted to tell him how he'd had a crazy infatuation with the boy since they were eleven, how he'd steal glances whenever he could. How it hurt him when Lance was unashamedly in love with Allura, and how he'd left the team to make sure Lance had a place as a paladin. To make sure he had a Lion. To make sure he felt important. He wanted to tell Lance everything.

Instead, Keith decided to go with something a little more low-key.

“I’ve missed you all too much to leave again,” Keith said with a soft smile, but the smile didn’t last; he knew he needed to say it sooner or later, and Lance must’ve sensed the worry and reluctance in his tone.

“Keith? Are you ok?”

“Uh, Lance?” he whispered, voice shaking. He could do this. He could. He inhaled.

“I’m in love with you.”

_exhale_

Lance went to speak, but Keith continued;

“And look, it may be hard and confusing now, but someday, everything will make perfect sense. So for now, let’s just laugh at the confusion, smile through the tears and keep reminding ourselves that everything happens for a reason. 

Next thing Lance knew, he was pressing his lips against Keith’s and the entire world began to fall away. Keith's lips were tender and soft and comforting in ways that words would never be. He ran his fingers down Keith’s back, leaning into the moment and pulling the boy closer until there was no space left between them, feeling only the rhythmic beating of Keith’s heart against his own.

 


End file.
